


Heard You Wanted An Adventure

by onecent



Series: Eyes and Ears [5]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel
Genre: Action/Adventure, Eyes and Ears, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-23 13:14:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4878241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onecent/pseuds/onecent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint's got news of a crime in progress, but he'll need some help from a professional eavesdropper to get the information he needs. Matt is not sure why he thought it would be safe to go anywhere with Clint while wearing sweatpants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bro, do you even bowl?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [MakeTheSecondsCount](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MakeTheSecondsCount/pseuds/MakeTheSecondsCount) for the bowling alley suggestion. This isn't the simple adventure I thought it was going to be, but hopefully it's still enjoyable.

Matt actually went to answer the door to his apartment. The footsteps sounded familiar, but for some reason he was having trouble placing them. But the smell of black coffee and stale pizza that wafted over him when he opened the door cleared things up.

“Clint,” he said with a sigh. “I guess…come on in.”

“Actually, we don’t have much time. My car’s double-parked downstairs.”

“You—what?”

“I would’ve texted ahead, but I wasn’t sure if you were able to get texts. So I just figured I’d swing by and see if you wanted to come out with me tonight.” Clint peered into the dark apartment. “I’m not interrupting you or anything?”

“Just my usual evening.” Matt rubbed at his face. “What did you have in mind?”

“It’s a surprise. Come on, grab your stuff.”

“Should I get my suit?”

“Nah, we should be fine. This place is really casual.”

Matt paused in the middle of reaching for his cane. “I was actually referring to my other suit.”

“Oh. Well. Uh…nah, I’m sure we’ll be fine.” Clint bounced forward a bit on his toes. “So you ready to go?”

Pulling on a pair of old sneakers, Matt considered his sweats-clad self and compared it to Clint in what seemed to be a pair of baggy jeans and a close-fitting top. “I suppose so.”

“Awesome.” Clint turned and headed toward the stairs. Matt slowly followed him downstairs to the street.

The car Clint headed toward didn’t have a roof, and it was very long and low. Matt let himself in the passenger door and settled in. “Leather seats?” he said.

“Yeah. It was a gift. That I paid for. And then got fixed…it’s been a long trip with this car. I assumed you’d want the top down?”

Matt nodded. He waited for Clint to start up the engine before his hand tensed on the door frame. Not that he didn’t trust Clint…okay, he didn’t trust the man’s driving. What man from New York knew how to drive?

But Clint drove smoothly into traffic. He was actually a little slow and not nearly as aggressive as Matt had expected. It was a fairly smooth drive to their destination, which Matt managed to place by scent alone. This wasn’t very difficult. The smell of bad concession stand food, floor wax, and, most of all, feet, was the sort of mix that even a non-powered person would be able to identify as a bowling alley. Matt nearly gagged on the stench.

“What the hell are we doing here, Clint? I don’t know if you noticed, but bowling requires the sort of hand-eye coordination that I just can’t manage anymore.”

“You’ll be fine. Besides, we’re not really here for the bowling.” Clint backed into a spot in the small parking lot. “I need your help with something, actually.”

“What sort of help?”

“Just a little eavesdropping. I’ve been tracking this one group, and they like to come here and play a few games before disappearing off to a back room. I just want to get a heads up on what they’re talking about back there.”

“And while we’re waiting? I’m just supposed to, what, go a few rounds?”

“Sure. Why not?”

Matt turned to face Clint, unspeaking.

“That’s nothing.” Clint waved a hand dismissively. “I’ll guide you and act all happy when you knock some pins down. It’ll be fine. Come on. Just a quick assist.”

Matt rolled his eyes. “Fine. You know what, fine. Let’s go.” He opened the door and slammed it behind him before stalking toward the door.

“That’s the spirit. Come on, I’ll buy you a drink from the bar.”

Clint paid for the lane, the shoe rental, and the drinks. Matt turned down any food and winced as he touched the shoes. His lip twitched in disdain. When Clint noticed, he leaned over and said, “Haven’t you literally been in the garbage before?”

“Not by choice. I have a choice here. And who chooses to do this to themselves?”

“You do now. Come on. It’s not that bad. You’ll forget you’re wearing them after a minute.”

Finally, they both had their shoes on and a couple of bowling balls picked out. Clint went first, a strike, and led Matt up to the lane and positioned him. He made a big production of helping out, and made an even bigger production out of Matt’s seven pins down. Matt frowned at the lane, certain his throw had been perfectly straight.

“It’s all in the curve,” Clint said, bowling another strike. “You’ve gotta hit that sweet spot between the front pin and the side. Try to put a little spin in the wrist this time.”

Matt frowned and attempted to follow instructions, managing to curve it out but not back in. He rolled a gutter ball. The next time, though, Clint lined him up again and moved his arm through the throw. Matt tried to memorize the motion and directly copy Clint. He got nine down on the next shot.

Clint threw a couple of his balls, trying to avoid drawing any extra attention to them by bowling a perfect game. Matt did pretty fair, he thought, considering how little he had bowled in his life. He even got in a couple strikes himself. As they wound up their game, Clint stiffened up in his seat.

“What?” Matt said. He turned his direction to where Clint was looking, but all that was over there was a couple of teenagers goofing off.

“They just walked in,” Clint said. “They’re up by the counter now.”

Matt focused on the group of people over by the counter. They were all speaking low, and they all spoke with a slight accent. Over the sound of the people in the bowling alley, Matt only caught a few words here and there.

“I can’t hear them,” he said. “I’ll have to get closer.”

“Okay, okay. We’ll wait for them to go into the back, then. And come up with a way for you to get close.”

“Looks like we’re going to have to think fast, then,” Matt said as the group of men headed toward a door in the back wall.

Clint sounded distressed. “They’re off. They always play a game first…something must be going on. We have to get this figured out today. Come on.”

“Where exactly are we going?”

“I’m going to the bathroom. You’re going to wait for me. Look like you’re picking out a new bowling ball or something.”

“That will only last so long.”

“Hopefully it’ll be long enough. If not, I’ll try to think of something else to tack onto the end.” Clint deposited Matt by a row of bowling balls. “Is this clear enough?”

Matt focused again, trying to hear behind the closed door behind him to tell what the people there were saying.

_“mumble mumble move the mumble tonight.”_

Matt flashed Clint a thumbs-up. Clint clapped Matt on the shoulder and walked away and into the bathroom. Matt refocused on the closed door conversation.

_“Do you mumble mumble trouble?”_

_“They know mumble try anything.”_

_“Good. That mumble mumble easy.”_

Across the bowling alley, a small child screamed in pain. It brought Matt out of his focus, but he quickly realized, based on the parents’ calm ministrations, that the kid had simply pinched their fingers between a couple of the bowling balls. Matt turned back to the conversation.

_“mumble mumble meet you mumble drop mumble transport the girls mumble mumble docks.”_

Matt grit his teeth. More trash pretending people were cargo. But he needed more information. He stopped pretending to be looking at the bowling balls in front of him and turned to the back wall. With his cane out, he stepped slowly forward until he reached the wall, then stepped toward the door.

_“…wants them by tomorrow morning. The boat will be coming in by one so everything has to be finished by then.”_

_“My guys are ready.”_ That voice sounded strangely familiar…where had Matt heard that voice before? _“We’ll be there, bro. Just give us the time to meet.”_

_“Meet at the check-in at ten. We’ll go from there.”_

“Hey, man, you need help finding something?”

Matt had been focusing so hard on the conversation inside that he hadn’t realized the young employee who’d come up behind him. He turned and smiled pleasantly past their shoulder.

“I was looking for the restroom,” he said. “My friend went in a while ago and I’m beginning to get worried about him.”

“Uh, okay…lemme go see…”

The bathroom door swung open and Clint walked out, wiping his hands on his pants. He looked over at Matt and the employee. “Is everything okay?”

“This kind individual was just offering to help me find out if you’d fallen in or gotten lost on your way back.”

“Nope, I’m good. Just had a bit of an emergency.”

“Okay then…” the employee said, clearly still trying to get Matt and Clint to leave the area. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

The door behind them swung open. Clint stepped swiftly behind Matt, but he wasn’t quick enough.

“Hey! I know that bro!” the slightly familiar voice said.

“Shit,” Clint muttered. “Change of plans. We gotta go.” He grabbed Matt by the arm and started pulling him away. “We just finished our game, actually, so we’ll be on our way out. Thanks!”

“Stop that bro! He’s that bro from that futzing apartment, bro!”

Clint leapt down the steps to the bowling alley floor in an attempt to avoid the swarms of bodyguards coming out of the back room. Matt followed right behind. As they hit the wood floor, though, their feet slipped. Clint fell on his butt and Matt slid across the floor for a moment until he could regain his balance and slip-run toward their alley.

“What the hell are you doing?” Clint said, back on his feet and racing toward the exit.

Matt didn’t say anything, just scooped up his shoes and kept running, dodging children and other bowlers on the way. He darted through the entrance and dove into the front seat of Clint’s car. Clint was already starting the engine and backing up. This time he did drive recklessly, backing up into one man and pulling out directly in front of what sounded and smelled like a very large garbage truck.

“See?” Clint said as he made a sharp left, “didn’t I promise we would have fun?”


	2. Remind me why we're friends?

Clint glanced in the rear view mirror one more time. “Okay,” he said, “I think we finally lost them.”

“Good. Now pull over.” Matt held one hand over his mouth and the other over his stomach.

“Aw, man, not in the car!”

“Pull over and it won’t have to be in the car!”

Clint pulled over against the curb, and Matt quickly launched out and heaved into a nearby garbage can. When he was done, he came back to the car and dug around on the floor of the passenger side.

“What are you looking for?”

“Those bowling shoes. They are going in the garbage right now.”

“Dude, you can’t do that! I need to return those!”

Matt looked up at him and tried to fix him with a piercing gaze, which was decidedly difficult with little sense of where his eyes were actually looking. “They stink, and I’m already dealing with motion sickness from your spectacular driving abilities.”

“Excuse you, those driving abilities just saved our lives and got us through a car chase. And as for the stink, I say again, haven’t you literally been in the garbage?”

“And I say again, not by choice. If you don’t want me puking in your car, I’m getting rid of the shoes. Besides, it’s not like you were actually going to be able to go back to that place without them arresting you on sight.” Matt finally grabbed the shoes and tossed them over into the garbage.

“You live in Hell’s Kitchen by choice,” Clint grumbled, gazing after the shoes.

Matt got into the car and slammed the door behind him. “Did you just say something?” he asked.

“What, me? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Clint pulled away from the curb as Matt fastened his seatbelt.

“Really? Because it sounded to me like you were badmouthing my neighborhood.”

“You picked a pretty crap neighborhood, man.”

“Excuse me, which one of us lives in Brooklyn?”

“Hey! Don’t go dissing on Brooklyn! Captain America’s from Brooklyn!”

“Ah, but he doesn’t live there anymore, does he? And where exactly is Avenger’s Tower?”

“Not in Hell’s Kitchen.”

“At least it’s on Manhattan.”

Clint fumed. “This is getting us nowhere. And we still have a case to deal with. So we’ll set aside your wrongness and focus on the job.”

“Excu—“

“What exactly are they pulling tonight?”

Still irritated, Matt let the subject drop for the time being. “It’s trafficking. They’ve got a bunch of people, and they’re going to transfer them over, somewhere by the docks.”

“Do we have any idea which docks?”

“It was hard to hear. I couldn’t get every word, even if they did specifically say. And I got interrupted before I could get everything. Just that the boat will be coming in by one, and they're meeting at ten somewhere."

"Well, at least we have a deadline. And, actually, maybe a place to start digging. We should see which ships are coming in tonight at one."

Matt frowned. "Do you even have access to that kind of information?"

"I don't," Clint said. He grinned and took the next right-hand turn. "But Avengers Tower does."

"We're getting the Avengers involved?"

"What? No! I don't want them digging their noses in. This is my case. Our case. We can handle it. Besides, everyone else is busy doing bigger things. Steve's actually on assignment in Bosnia right now, and you know Tony would just turn this into a circus."

"What about Widow?"

Clint pursed his lips. "I've got her number. If we need help, we can call it in. But I'm sure we'll be fine."

"If we can even figure out where to go," Matt muttered.

"I didn't hear that, but I'm going to assume you said something very positive about how we are both very capable individuals who will most definitely be able to manage this task. Now, in the spirit of that positivity, I'm going to turn on some music for us to enjoy, since we've still got a half hour drive before we hit the tower."

Clint reached forward to flip on the radio to classic rock. Matt, once he finished sulking about superheroing in his sweatpants, turned his mind to logistics.

"There was that one guy who knew you," he eventually said to Clint. "Do we have any intel on him?"

"He's part of the group that tried to take over my building. I didn't catch a name on him or anything, though. But we might be able to find that out. I know some of the other...associates in that group."

"And what time is it now?"

"It's about...seven? Shoot, it's dinner time. I'm starving. You hungry?"

"I ate already, actually. Fortunately. I'm just concerned we won't have time to get our things before we have to catch these guys."

"What're you talking about? There's extras up at--oh. Avengers Tower. Heh." Clint rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Well, I'm sure we can dig up something for you while we're there. I mean, you're not sold on the red devil costume, right? Didn't you used to fight crime in your underwear?"

"It was pants. Black pants."

"The mask thing...?"

"It was a piece of fabric, Clint! I wasn't running around with underwear of any sort over my face!"

"Oh. Sorry. My bad. Anyway. The pole things can't be that hard to find, and I've got some extra clothes that might fit you. They're even black. It'll be fine."

"You know what? You keep saying those words. I do not think they mean what you think they mean."

Clint grinned. "Nice." He made a final turn into the Tower parking lot, pressing a thumb to the scanner to get access to the underground garage. "But seriously. It'll be fine."


	3. Look at the fancy toys

"JARVIS?" Clint said, hitting the elevator button in the parking garage. "Who all's at home today?"

"Greetings, Agent Barton. Mr. Stark is working in his lab. Everyone else is out."

"Does Stark know we're here yet?"

"He's requested that he not be disturbed except in case of an emergency."

"Awesome." The elevator arrived and Clint stepped in, waving for Matt to join him. "Where's a good place to get into the computers where I won't be bothering Tony?"

"The main access port is in the lab and is currently in use. The common area has an open and functional access screen. What, might I inquire, do you need assistance with?"

"We're looking for information," Clint explained. "Head on up to the common area. That should be fine. We need to look through security footage and see if we can get known locations and names on a couple people."

"Very well."

The elevator shot up, nearly motionless. Matt frowned down at his feet.

"What level is the common room on?" he asked.

"Uh, I'm not sure, actually...fifty something? Sixty?" The elevator dinged. "Here we go."

"That was remarkably fast."

"What'd I tell you? Stark tech. We'll have our info and be out in a flash."

Clint headed straight over to the fancy screen attached to the far wall. Matt took an extra moment to try to get a handle on his surroundings. The common room was less of a room and more of a floor, complete with a kitchenette and bar, couches, and a full entertainment center. Matt supposed he shouldn't be surprised, but it was still a little frustrating to realize that this was only a small part of what Stark had access to.

"All right, we're in," Clint called out. He tapped quickly on the screen, now lit up with purple around its edge as a nod toward the user, and input all the information he could think of. "It's searching for possible suspects now. I'm pulling up all the people who were part of that mess over at the apartment, all the ones we found out about anyway. Our guy wasn't that smart. I think we've got some information on him. Think you can do an ID?"

"I should be able to, if you can get a clean vocal sample from him."

"We've got recordings from the police interviews. Think that'll work?"

"We can give it a shot." Matt frowned. "How in the world do you have access to those interviews? Is that even legal?"

"Anything from before they asked for a lawyer, I guess. Or if they didn't...you know what? I don't know. I'm actually pretty sure that half the things that Tony does are illegal anyway, and I wouldn't be surprised if we are not supposed to have access to any of this and we just do." Clint shrugged. "I try not to worry about the legal side of things too much. But I've admittedly never been one for following the rules. Not like some in this room I could think of. Except for, you know, the whole vigilantism thing. Isn't running around in leather punching people kind of against the law, too?"

"I don't wear leather," Matt said. "And that is different."

"Yeah, probably." Clint shrugged again. "But like I said. To an ex-con, ex-carnie, it all sort of blends together after a bit. Ah, here we go! Listen to this."

Clint touched play on the screen and the sound of a man simply screaming filled the room. He winced and turned off the recording. "Uh...sound familiar?"

Matt removed his hands from his ears. "No. Are they all going to sound like that?"

"Let's hope not. Here, try this one." The next sound clip was a guy protesting his innocence over and over, saying that he didn't do it, bro.

"Not him. Too high-pitched."

They went through five more audio samples before Matt nodded. "That one. That's the guy."

Clint brought up the file. It included a mug shot that was decidedly familiar. "Yup, that's him all right."

Matt crossed his arms over his chest. "There's a picture, isn't there?"

"Um."

"We didn't have to go through the audio files at all, did we?"

Clint bit his lower lip. "You know, that is a really good point and I wish I'd thought of it first."

Matt sighed heavily. "All right, who is the guy?"

"Vassily Kuznetsov," Clint read. "Lots of arrests, not a lot of convictions. Looks like he's got a decent legal defense at his back."

"And what do we know about his whereabouts recently?"

"Hold on, hold on, I'm getting there...okay, he's been seen lurking outside a warehouse down in your neighborhood, out by the docks. Which makes sense. It's close to that bowling alley, too. And I'm digging up his financial information..."

"I'm a lawyer," Matt muttered under his breath. "Why did I become a lawyer? Why did I think this would help me to feel less guilty?"

"Ha! There we go, a money trail. Oof. This is some nasty business he's getting himself tied up in. That we're getting tied up in."

"What? Who are we dealing with?" Matt asked.

"It's the mob, again. Just regrowing. Uglier weapons this time around, and an ugly head to their snake. They'll probably be sending in some real muscle for this." Clint turned and looked over Matt. "I guess we're going to have to suit up." He considered Matt for a moment. "Hey JARVIS? What sort of spare suits do we have lying around? Durable, light, easy to move in?"

"I believe that we may have something in backup storage. You are welcome to look."

"Thanks."

Matt fell in step with Clint, who headed back to the elevator. "Does he...the computer...know anything about me?"

"I'm pretty sure JARVIS knows a lot about you and everyone else. He knows how I fold my socks, so I think it's fair to assume that he's got a pretty good idea of who you are." Clint pushed the button for the next floor down on the elevator. "Anyone who comes into the tower is being checked on by JARVIS, whether they know it or not. But I'm banking on him not telling anyone unless they ask. And the only people he'll tell would be us. The Avengers, that is."

"Right." Matt cocked his head to the side, listening for the presence that wasn't really there. "Yeah, that sounds...safe."

"You saying you aren't interested in becoming an Avenger after hearing that great pitch? I was sure the common room alone would do it for you."

"Honestly, I'm fine staying out of the big leagues for right now."

"Fair enough. Lots of broken ribs to be had fighting robot chickens in Bulgaria."

"What?"

'You don't really want to know." Clint stepped out of the elevator and headed down the long hallway, checking the rooms as he went. "Ah, here we go. Let's see what sort of toys we can dig up for you." He flipped on the light switch and stepped back to let Matt get a sense of the new room.

Matt tapped on the door with his cane, listening to the echoes bounce in the room. "Holy shit," he whispered.

"Isn't it great?" Clint was grinning wide. He reached out to grab the nearest suit off the rack. "Now, let's see if we can't get you suited up so we can get to work. We've got people to save and bad guys to punch into next decade."


	4. That's on me.

"You realize we are less than ten blocks from my home," Matt said through the comms. "We could have just stopped there on the way here and gotten my stuff. It wouldn't have been that hard."

"That...is a possibility I almost _definitely_ considered," Clint replied, "and discarded because how could you pass up an opportunity to use some StarkTech for once?"

"I don't like StarkTech, I like my tech. Which isn't tech. I don't really do tech."

"You have to admit the comms are helping."

"Helping you, maybe. They're a little loud, if you ask me."

Clint was perched on a building adjacent the targeted warehouse. Matt was sitting on top of the actual building, adjusting his new gloves and testing the weight on his new (stolen) electric batons. They weren't always electric, just when he hit a switch, and their balance was slightly off due to the wiring. Clint was in a backup suit, which meant for him cargo pants and a t-shirt with a fancy quiver and bow. Matt was in a generic black body suit with a bandana around his eyes. Back to basics in a lot of ways, though the suit did feel sturdier than his original get-up.

"We've got incoming," Clint murmured. "Looks like...eight men?"

"Plus the four in the building," Matt responded. "Do you think anyone else will be joining them?"

"Looks like this is it. How many are you taking?"

"I've got inside." Matt opened the roof access door, which he'd previously propped open with a rock and oiled the hinges to make it open nearly silently. "Can you handle eight by yourself or will you need backup?"

"I brought the fancy arrows. I should be fine."

Matt slipped inside the building. He went down a flight of stairs to the catwalk. There, he perched above the heads of the four goons inside. They were waiting around a large shipping container. "I've got eyes on the men and the girls," he whispered.

Clint snorted. "Eyes," he chuckled.

"Oh for the love of..." Matt rolled his eyes. "Thank you, yes. It's very funny. How are you up there?"

"Ready when you are. They're getting close to the door, though, so we should get this started soon. My shot will make a fair bit of noise, so you go first so you still have an element of surprise."

Matt took a deep breath. "Here goes." He dropped straight down into the midst of the four goons, stretching out and kicking one of them in the head as he dropped. As he hit the floor, he swept out a leg and dropped another to the floor before coming up with a punch. Outside, he heard a loud boom and the sound of people shouting and coughing. Matt caught a whiff of smoke and coughed himself.

"What was that?" he asked as he dodged a blow to his head and punched at one of the remaining goon's stomach.

"Exploding arrow. Looks like I've got five down, but there's three more still on their feet. They're coming to you."

"Perfect," Matt grumbled. He managed to knock out a third man just as the doors swung open.

One of the new men growled and pointed at him. "Get the man in the mask!" he shouted.

"Very clever," Matt retorted. "Yes, I can see why they chose you to be a leader. Are you sure you're really dealing with the biggest threat, though?"

The man growled and took a step closer into the light from an upstairs window. The glass shattered and an arrow pierced his shoulder. He fell to the ground screaming in pain.

"Trick arrow?" Matt asked.

"Nope. How're you doing?"

The last of Matt's four original opponents attempted to sneak up on him. As he launched himself at Matt's back, Matt dropped to a knee and threw him over his shoulder and onto the floor. Then he punched the man in the solar plexus for good measure before standing up and looking at the last two goons. These last two looked at their fallen comrades and up at Matt, who simply smiled and shrugged. 

"You know, I feel good. I could do this all night," Matt said.

The two men turned and ran for the door.

"We got runners," Matt said. "They'll call for backup."

"Yeah, I see 'em." There was the whip of two more arrows flitting through the air and two more thunks as the two men were pinned to the open door by their hands.

"All right," Matt said. "Now that that's dealt with, let's see if we can't get these girls out."

"I'm going to head on over," Clint said.

"I'll try to have the lock open before you arrive."

"Aw, you're so sweet."

Matt pulled out a pin--he always tried to keep some sort of lock picking tool on his person--and went to work. With his sensitivity and his ability to hear the tumblers click into place, the lock was open in less than a minute.

Clint came running into the building just a little later, nodding to the various men still awake and moaning through their injuries. He spotted one man trying to struggle to his feet and knocked him in the head with a goo arrow, which exploded on contact and left him attached to the floor. "Let's get these people to freedom," he said, jogging up to Matt's side.

Matt threw open the door to the storage unit and froze.

"Uh. Clint?" he said quietly.

"Yeah?" Clint whispered. He seemed frozen in place.

"Please tell me that these are some very large, very smelly, very hairy girls."

A loud roar came from the storage unit.

"Well, I'd love to tell you that, Matt, but I'm afraid I'm looking into the mouth of a lion. Well, lioness, I suppose."

"They're all lions?"

"Well, no, that one seems to be a bear. A grizzly by the look of her."

"You are taking this all very calmly."

"I lived in the circus. Illegally trafficked animals are surprisingly not that new for me."

Matt frowned and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Lions."

"And tigers. And bears."

"Oh my."

Clint groaned. "Man, I wanted to say that part."

"You got to drag me around after you all night. I get to say the funny reference."

"But it wasn't that funny. That's why it was supposed to be me. I make the bad jokes, you complain about them. You're stealing my thunder."

Matt turned to Clint. "That's what you're going to walk away with tonight? We sit around at a bowling alley, get chased through Manhattan, steal from Tony Stark, take down a group of bad guys only to discover that the 'girls' they have been trafficking are actually animals, and your takeaway is that I got to say the line."

"Well when you put it like that--"

"Let's just call animal control so we can be done for the night."

"Drinks on me?"

"Damn right the drinks are on you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They were originally going to actually be young girls, but WingsWithoutStrings gave me the prompt "Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!" and I got the idea so...there you go.
> 
> And I have noted the other request, and I had thought I might add it as the final chapter on this story, but in a surprising turn of events the boys were both completely competent and did not require any medical attention, so I'll have to save it for another time.
> 
> If I don't get another story up for a while, I apologize. I am working on something longer which is eating up most of my brain power, but I hope to have that finished sometime in the next couple weeks and get it posted and get back to some of the fluffier fics.


End file.
